


This Time, This Life

by leoandlancer



Series: Overwatch Standalones [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, First Kiss, M/M, Mission Fic, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandlancer/pseuds/leoandlancer
Summary: Reaper seeks out Soldier:76 after returning to Watchpoint Gibraltar for the reformation of Overwatch. Years of being apart, and on opposite sides, are behind them. Now Jack and Gabe have some UST to get over, just in time to go out on a disastrous mission to London that forces them even closer together.





	1. Chapter 1

"You've been avoiding me."

Soldier76 tensed as the words come up on the dusty, warm afternoon breeze. "It's been easy. You're not so keen to strike up a conversation."

Reaper materialized out of a wraith of black dust. The long coat and bone white mask, the boots and single handed shotguns gleaming in the low light of the late afternoon light. All that was left of Gabe.

Soldier looked away. Down below the lookout, a huge tanker was plowing through the choppy waters of the sea.

"You were always the talkative one. The one who wanted to get everything out in the open. Above board. Legitimate, open, honest discussion." The words were mocking, Reaper's voice wasn't suited to the bullshit Jack used to say.

"All the good it did," Soldier kept his gaze on the tanker. "You sure as hell didn't care about what I said then. Why are you asking now?"

Reaper stepped up to stand beside him and Soldier could feel a chill coming off him, like an open door to a winter evening. Reaper had a smell around him like burnt blood and ozone and gunpowder. Gabe had used the same aftershave all the time that Jack had known him. There was no trace of it now.

"Why you up here, Reaper?" Soldier76 asked at last. The sun had slipped several degrees in the time they spent silently side by side. The tanker was rounding the far away point towards open water.

"You know who I am," Reaper growled. "Or are you just afraid to say my name?"

Soldier76 wondered briefly if a fall from this height would kill him.

"I know who you used to be,” He said.

Reaper replied with a sound like a hiss, or a growl. Something so low that it might have just been a vibration that chilled Jack's spine. He was already tense, but the noise would have jolted him to full alert if he hadn't been.

"Are you so different than you were before?" Reaper growled.

"Blind, old, half dead, trailing broken promises and piling bodies into a body count that's meant nothing? Yeah I'd say so." Soldier76 waited to hear Reaper reply to this, then went on into the quiet. "Jack Morrison died, with his golden reputation, with his naivete and his hope and his stupid, stupid trust in something so vulnerable."

Another silence fell, but Jack had finished mourning the death of the good man he'd been. Stupid and loving and hopeful and too self centered to notice the decay that would devour everything he loved before his eyes.

"And Gabriel Reyes?" Reaper asked.

"My friend died,” Soldier hadn’t finished mourning that. He never would. “A long time ago. I didn't bury him, but I should have. I should have been allowed to remember him."

"What do you remember, Soldier?"

Soldier76 could remember everything. He'd hoarded memories of Gabe more carefully than a miser. Gabe laughing as they ran side by side, racing. Jack had the endurance, the patience and the discipline, but Gabe was powerful in a way Jack envied. Gabe in his white t-shirt and fatigue pants, playing cards under a single flickering light-bulb on assignment. They would talk together in low voices, laugh softly and eat off the same plate, drink from the same bottle. Gabe's hands working over the pieces of a shotgun, cleaning, oiling, maintaining. Brisk, knowledgeable motions that Jack loved watching, like watching a craftsman carving a wooden statue, or a chef preparing a dish. Gabe putting their foreheads together after months on assignment without seeing each other, the wordless greeting late at night, both of them shaken and exhausted. Gabe standing in black at a funeral, mourning the death of one of the many friends they buried together. Those funerals got easier every time, and they shouldn't have.

"I remember every damn time I fucked him up. Every goddamn time I should have said something and didn't. Every goddamn time I didn't say something I should have. Remember every time my friend asked for help and I didn't notice, didn't give it to him." Soldier76 said finally. "Been thinking about it for a long time."

"Waste of time," Reaper growled. "I wouldn't have taken your damn help Morrison."

"Doesn't stop me wishing you had. You don't get to decide how much I wanted you safe," Soldier76 stopped himself for a second, then felt the words tear out of him before he could hold them back. "I missed you."

"Waste of time," Reaper said again, the words came out fast on the tail of Soldier’s unwilling admission.

Soldier76 shifted his shoulders, wishing he hadn't said anything and refusing to leave the lookout. He wasn't running away anymore. The sun was less than a hand-span above the horizon now, and the water was cutting up as the breeze grew to a steady wind. No one else came here, the little look out to the left of the hanger on the way to the launch pad. No one would come for hours now.

"It wasn't our fault," Reaper said, quieter now.

Soldier glanced instinctively towards an unexpected movement, and realized Reaper’s hands were on either side of his head. Then the white mask was gone, and Soldier felt jolted by the face of Gabriel Reyes turning to him.

"Gabe," Soldier breathed out, the tension went out of his shoulders, years of military training couldn't hold him at attention when his best friend was right there, right beside him.

"You never buried me," Gabe said. It was still a growl, and now Soldier76 could see the way the scars over Gabe's throat and beside his mouth tugged at his skin when he spoke. There were streaks of white in his black hair at the temples.

"You destroyed everything, everything we built," Soldier76 couldn't help the accusation. Couldn't have looked away from Gabe if the man had slapped him. Couldn't stop drinking in the sight of his friend, Gabe standing right here. Soldier76 could reach out and touch him.

"Only slightly more than you did," Gabe shrugged.

The motion looked so much more like something Gabe would do Solder76 felt another stab of longing, new nostalgia he couldn't deal with. His breath caught and he found he couldn’t reply.

"I told you, it wasn't our fault, we both just took it the hardest. We didn't grow up in Overwatch, it grew up in us, it outgrew us. It fell, we fell, and we'll never be whole again." Gabe shook his head, like he was trying to shift a headache.

Now that Soldier was looking for it, he saw the setting sunlight on Gabe’s face illuminate blue-grey patches at the corners of his mouth, under his eyes and at his temples. When he spoke, his teeth looked oddly sharp, edged like a bear-trap.

"I didn't care about that," Soldier76 heard himself say. He was still staring at Gabe. Looking at the places where he could see Mercy's technology holding him together. "I cared about you."

For the first time, Gabe looked startled, mouth open but without words to fill the space between them. He stood staring at Soldier76 instead.

"Take that off Jack," Gabe finally reached out one clawed hand and flicked the air a careful distance from Soldier76's mask.

Soldier hesitated for a moment, then he reached up and unclasped the face plate from the neck brace. The visor flashed a warning and then went dark. Blind, with his heart beating too fast, Jack pulled his mask off.

He heard Gabe catch his breath, heard the shift in stance as Gabe turned to face him.

"Really are blind huh?" Gabe said in a low voice.

"More than I was? Yes. Somehow." Jack stayed perfectly still, even as the chill of Gabe's ruined body came closer. Even as the press of cold air grew on his face.

"You always were an over achiever Morrison," Gabe growled.

Jack had been expecting the cold of claws on his face, of Gabe's gauntlets clawing down his cheek. He wasn't expecting cool fingers to trace the edge of the scar that slashed across his mouth.

"I missed you Gabe," Jack murmured. The cool finger trailed towards his chin, and seemed to hesitate, then traced slowly over his lips.

"Waste of time," Gabe said again.

Jack shut his sightless eyes as Gabe's thumb rubbed slowly over the lower curve of his lip.

"Being dead makes you bolder," Gabe said, almost absently, "Wouldn't have tried this alive."

"Me either," Jack let his mask slip from his fingers and reached out. Then Gabe's chest was under his hands, and Jack slowly traced up to his shoulders, his neck, until he stroked the first two fingers of both hands down Gabe's jaw. "Did you want to?"

Gabe kissed him, the wash of cool air on Jack's face was like a slap, making him start as Gabe moved in fast. The press of lips was brief, stolen, and guilty.

"Yes," Gabe breathed, still close, his cool breath on Jack's open mouth. "God yes. I wanted to break your school boy composure. Wanted you to myself, take you from all those idiots that adored you. Wanted to make you mine." The words tumbled out, almost one on top of the other, and Jack groaned.

"What the hell stopped you? It wouldn't have been me," Jack’s hands stroked over Gabe's head, through short sleek hair, knocking the black hood back. Deliberately, he took a careful step forward, bringing their bodies together in a long hard line. "Shit if I'd known I would have..."

"Shut up and show me," Gabe growled. The words vibrated against Jack's mouth, their lips already touching.

Jack tugged Gabe in, pushed their mouths together and held them like that. Hunger and anger and years of waiting, wondering, decades of what-ifs and here they finally came together on a cliff in Gibraltar. Jack's hands cupped Gabe's head, pulling him in, holding him in place. Gabe wrapped around Jack, arms around his back, anchoring them both. Their mouths slanted into each other, the scuff of Gabe's beard and the sharpness of his teeth against the wet heat of Jack's mouth. Gabe's tongue was cool as Jack sucked it into his mouth, the tartness of ozone making his jaw ache.

Gabe groaned and broke the kiss, pushing himself away slightly and shaking his head to free Jack's hands, then pressed his face into Jack's neck. His hands clenched over Jack's back and shoulders.

"I'm not human anymore Jack," Gabe said.

"We're both dead men," Jack replied flatly, if slightly breathless. His hands stroked over Gabe’s head to cup the back of his neck. "So unless that was a tactical update, I'm going to get my fucking hands on your dick. Finally."

"Ha, were you this forward before? Or has death improved you?"

"In so many unexpected ways," Jack muttered, "Now shut up Gabe."

"Unrealistically high expectations," Gabe set his teeth in a grin, already chasing another kiss.

"First time for everything, even a lack of back talk from you," Jack muttered against Gabe's lips. “A man can hope.”

Gabe kissed him, pulling their mouths together again in a messy, heavy kiss Jack fought to stay in control of. His hands were fumbling for the edges of Gabe's ridiculous pants. He started when he felt Gabe's hand between them, opening the front of his own pants, then Jack's. It hadn't actually occurred to him, until he got both hands around Gabe's dick, until the moment his breath caught and Gabe's hand wrapped around his, that they were finally, _finally_ doing this. 

It was awkward, rough and fast and Gabe broke the kiss first with a snarl to pant against Jack's neck. They stood close, their roughly jerking hands between their bodies, panting open mouthed and shaking as they managed to hold themselves and each other upright.

"You're so warm," Gabe growled. He shook his head briefly against Jack's neck. "Forgot what that felt like."

Jack couldn't reply. The coolness of Gabe's touch wasn't as noticeable as the odd buzzing, like electricity crackled under his skin. Gabe's broad, scared hand on his dick, cool and rough and moving too fast, too rough, was jerking him far too quickly towards the end of whatever this was. It was all he could do to keep them both upright, keep his hand working Gabe's dick, curved and twitching in his hand.

"Missed you Gabe," Jack panted. "I... Fuck... I wanted this, wanted us."

"Shut up," Gabe groaned, turned his face to bury it in Jack's shoulder. "We never would have made it work back then. Fuck ups that we were."

They could make it work now? The thought hadn't occurred to Jack before.

"Gabe," Jack was chasing another kiss, feeling the need for more contact, the bitterness of Gabe's cool mouth and the sharpness of his teeth on his tongue. "Gabe." Again he nuzzled blindly against Gabe's neck and this time Gabe reared up, caught the back of Jack's head with his hand, and his mouth in a desperate, open mouthed kiss and held them hard together like that.

Gabe bit into the kiss, and Jack broke with a start. He'd been edged up and denied too long, the coolness and the roughness of Gabe's hand holding him off. Now the kiss, the bite, the cool tongue soothing along his lip was too much. Jack barely made a sound as he came, the tiny abilities you pick up living in close quarters with other men, and stroked Gabe fast and hard. He felt the moment Gabe stopped kissing him, went perfectly silent, then shuddered as he came. Jack kissed him through it, stroked him through it, barely remembered to breath as Gabe's big hand tugged him more and more gently through the rest of his release.

"Missed you," Gabe gasped, seconds later as they fought for breath, both trembling and both, remarkably, still on their feet. "I missed you Jack."

Jack nuzzled a soft, open mouthed kiss into Gabe's panting mouth. Neither of them apologized, neither of them could start. Too much had happened, and their old wounds had long ago ceased to matter, even through the pain.

They were propped against one another, neither giving ground, and it was all that kept them upright.

"We couldn't have done this before," Jack said between breaths. He wasn't sure if he was regretting the fact, or trying to assure himself that it was true.

"We could now," Gabe made an effort and straightened slightly, pulling Jack up with him.

Jack didn't hesitate, "Yeah, couple of old dead guys can do anything now," He made an effort and uncurled the protective hand he'd kept on Gabe's softening dick. "Since we have a chance to try."

Gabe gave a tiny groan as Jack tucked him back into his pants, the tight leather was in no way suitable for anything, least of all this. Then Jack grunted as Gabe returned the favor. He really shouldn't criticize his outfit after all.

"Try," Gabe growled, "Yeah, after all this time, all we've done, we got enough left in us to try right?"

They were both shaking slightly. Jack was out of breath and stunned and reason was creeping back after the shock of Gabe's face had blown it away. Gabe, Reaper, was Talon. Had killed his friends, torn Overwatch apart, tried to kill him. Jack in kind had made some determined efforts of his own. Jack had taken and lost so much, they both had. They could start again. "Right."

It came as a surprise to Jack, even though it shouldn't have, when Gabe gently put their foreheads together. Gabe didn't smell like he ought to, but his body was familiar under Jack's hands, and his mouth was soft as he pressed another kiss.

"This time," Gabe murmured, cool breath on Jack's face, ozone and gunpowder. "This life."

"We'll get it right," Jack agreed softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first Overwatch fic I've posted, and I have a few more already written. I'll be updating regularly on Mondays from now on. Also I'll also be participating in the Overwatch Big Bang, so there'll be a long fic coming in December that I'm super excited over!  
> If you have any requests or would like to see something more, please let me know! You can ask me anything on my Tumblr at leoandlancer.tumblr.com/ask or in the comments here. <3  
> This work was unbeta'd so any horribly embarrassing grammar or spelling mistakes are my own fault, and I apologize.


	2. Chapter 2

The mission was supposed to be straightforward one. 

Which, of course, was exactly why it went so disastrously wrong. Had Winston framed it as being the most impossible, bizarre mission in the history of all military undertakings, things probably would have been fine. The plan wouldn't have been immediately thrown out the window. There would have only been one group of antagonists to contend with instead of three. They wouldn't have gotten separated.

Soldier was going to have a hard and fast talk with Winston about mission briefings if he made it out of here alive.

Alive, yeah, that was the key. Soldier76 managed to drag a breath in, and regretted it as pain from broken bones and dislocations and cuts and bruises lanced through him. He realized something sharp and cold wasn't just in his gut, something had gone clear through it. He’d lost his visor and mask in the fight, and broken glass had gone through the armor at the back of his neck and into skin. The blood on his face felt itchy and cold. 

Straightforward mission, Soldier thought, shuddering out his breath and trying to move his hands. Straightforward missions were always like this. You set out to pick up a book of QR codes and you ended up dying in the dark, at the bottom of a sixty foot fall, impaled by a piece of rebar. 

The only convenient thing about underground missions, he thought as he shut his eyes and let his breath out, was it meant death was also burial.

 

* * *

 

 

It was warm inside Winston's workshop. It usually was, Winston seemed to like the heat, but there were also eighteen people, two omnics, a cyborg ninja, and a Gorilla crammed into the little space and Soldier really wished they could crack a window.

"Active duty," Winston said, clearly uncomfortable in the centre of this crowd, "We're starting a little early but it's a straightforward mission." 

Soldier snorted quietly. Across the room, Reaper put his head slightly back at exactly the same moment. 

"Zenyatta's received a request from the Shambali," Winston went on. "It seems that Mondatta left a cache of sorts in London with the Omnics before he was assassinated."

Winston, to his credit, hardly paused to glance at Widowmaker, who looked typically unabashed. Tracer, sitting cross legged on Winston's desk only scowled. 

"What kind of a cache," Reaper asked. 

"The message wasn't very clear," Winston looked at Zenyatta, who went on for him. 

"The Shambali believe it to be his teachings, in the form of a book." 

Zenyatta, Soldier was interested to note, didn't seem to care where Widowmaker was in relation to himself. He had his back to her as he addressed the room at large. With Widowmaker's track record, he had expected Zenyatta to keep her in line of sight. Although it didn't really matter, he reflected. Mondatta had technically been facing her when he died. 

"A holy book?" Mei tipped her head a little to one side. In Winston's private tropical climate, she had pulled off her anorak and amut, and stood in her huge boots and lined leggings, sweating slightly. 

"Possibly it may become one," Zenyatta allowed, "Many omnics wished to be see Mondatta in London during his last visit, but felt the streets would not be safe for them. He made a gift, and visited them first." 

Widowmaker frowned, straightening. "Non, I was watching him. He never left the..." 

"Many omnics look alike, to those unfamiliar with the nuances appearance. One of the Shambali remained in his safe house at all times while he traveled London," Zenyatta interrupted without bothering to look at her.

Widowmaker snapped her mouth. Tracer glanced up with a little smirk. 

"All we're doing here," Winston said, looking supremely uncomfortable. He went on before anyone could enter the conversational melee "Is going to the Underworld of Kings Row to recover Mondatta's gift." 

"What's the opposition," Soldier asked. There was no way there wasn't opposition. This was London at the rising height of the omnic conflict. Any activity in the Omnic shantytown under Kings Row was going to spark opposition, human and omnic alike.

"Anti-omnic sentimentalists; kids with bottles," Winston shrugged. "And the Shambali mentioned the Omnics of King's Row weren't entirely cooperative. So, very little opposition that we know if." 

"If it was a gift, why are we taking it away from them?" Mei asked before Soldier could.

Soldier was watching Zenyatta when Mei asked, but the omnic was hard to read. If he had tells, they didn't show in any of the ways Soldier had been trained to watch for. Zenyatta simply paused before he answered, but that could have been a hesitation to phrase something nicely, or he could be lying. Soldier couldn't tell and it was making him uneasy.

"For safekeeping,” Zenyatta said at last, “It will always be theirs." 

Safekeeping. A simple mission. Little to no opposition. Soldier crossed his arms. This was a whole lot of bullshit. He knew exactly what bullshit sounded like. Across the room, Reaper's mask turned to face him. 

"Soldier76, you'll be escorting Zenyatta down into the underground," Winson said, "Mei, Mercy, Zarya and Reaper will be your team." 

Reaper looked around at Winston. "If you're sending me," He said flatly, "You can't be expecting it to  _ stay  _ a simple mission." 

"You're an excellent flanker," Winston said, almost primly, "And the Underworld is a honeycomb of passageways." 

Soldier shifted uneasily. Across the room, Genji was machine-still, his mask facing Zenyatta. Genji was a better flanker, and he had a stake in Zenyatta's safety. Hell, Mei was a good flanker, and they couldn't possibly need two. 

"I am also unsure why I am assigned," Zarya was scowling at Winston, her eyes cold. 

Winston looked back at her with slight surprise that could have been fake. "Reinhardt and Dva can't physically fit in some of the spaces in the underground. Roadhog is known in the underground to the London Omnics and won't go unnoticed--" 

Junkrat burst out laughing at this remark and leaned against Roadhog, who stood, looking totally unperturbed, and barely shrugged. The man had a reputation. 

“Hog’ll be attacked on sight he means,” Junkrat hooted.

"Then why not you," Zarya pressed, unwilling to be diverted and crossing her arms. 

"I'm not leaving the Gibraltar right now," Winston said. 

He said it with such casual conviction, Soldier looked from the scowling, furious, heavyweight champion to the mild looking scientist. Winston didn't look anxious anymore, he looked flatly sure of himself. He wasn't going to be moved.

"You're the only suitable tank," He went on.

Zarya opened her mouth, ready for a new argument, then Mei stood up on tip-toe in her huge boots to whisper something to her. 

Soldier watched with a little half smile behind his mask as Zarya's argument, whatever it was, died on her tongue. She was still scowling as Mei dropped back down, but she didn't look so frightening anymore.

"Very well," she said, shrugging her huge shoulders and frowning at Winston. "I go. But not for the Omnics or your book," She added, just to be perfectly clear apparently, turning her frown on Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta nodded peaceably back at her. Mei had gone slightly pink and was smiling quietly at nothing. 

Around the room, people began shifting and stretching, moving to the exits and back out into the Watchpoint. Then Soldier felt a familiar prickle along the back of his neck and turned. Reaper was watching him. 

It had been less than a day.

Soldiers hands twitched as he thought about it. Reaper pulling that ghoulish white mask off and showing Gabriel Reyes' face under it. His best friend talking low and matter-of-fact. _ It wasn't our fault.  _ Gabe looking old and tired until he looked at Soldier76 and then just looked... Guarded, uncertain. Less than a day since he'd had his mouth on Gabe's for the first time.

A simple mission. Soldier frowned behind his mask. Sending Reaper into a heavily populous area wasn't subtle. Reaper was their heaviest hitter besides Bastion, and if he was coming, this mission wasn't going to be a simple one. 

And Winston would know that.

 

* * *

 

Soldier woke screaming, his body jerking up, ribs blazing with pain, his bloody neck giving him fresh hell under cooled blood. Whatever had been run through him was gone, removed with one ugly, overpowered yank, and Soldier couldn't move to stop the bleeding. His chest felt oddly heavy somehow, full and cold in a way that he knew from experience meant major internal damage. 

He fought to take a breath, and smelt Reaper, ozone and gunpowder over the blood and dust and rust in the air. 

"Gabe," Soldier rasped. He coughed and felt blood spatter up his tongue. He didn't know what to follow that up with, didn't know what to ask for.

"You are hard to kill," Reaper's voice growled beside his ear. 

There was a click, so familiar it made Soldier sob with relief even before he felt it's effects. The Biotic Field spread in a pool around him, hissing quietly and warming him from his bones out. 

Reaper took a breath beside him, sharp from behind his mask, and Soldier grunted in pain as Reaper's hands went to his shoulder. He flinched away when Soldier gave a snarl of pain. 

"Your arm's dislocated," Reaper snapped. 

He was speaking fast, and Soldier would have laughed if he had the breath for it. Reaper sounded downright alarmed. 

"Damn. Alright," Soldier let out a breath and tried to force his broken body to relax. "Go." Reaper's hands, clawed and cold and just as impossibly strong as Soldier expected, took his arm and wrenched it around and up and  _ in _ . 

Soldier screamed, his ruined body yanking itself away. He'd broken a cold sweat and felt like he might be sick. 

"Otherwise boyscout, you look great," Reaper's hands steadied him as Soldier shuddered and began to drop back to the ground. "Your other arm's just broken." 

"Fantastic," Soldier hissed, reeling. The Biotic Field was warm on his cold body, and he could feel his ribs knitting back into place, even as he tensed and shuddered. The Field brought him an odd, oily feeling whenever he used it. It made him somehow aware of the texture of broken bones or frayed muscle as they were repaired.

Reaper's hand was still on his shoulder, holding him down as the Biotic Field went through it's precious five seconds. 

It clicked off and Soldier groaned quietly as the healing effects of Mercy's portable little miracle canister ended abruptly. His bones were in mid-mend, his body horribly over-sensitive, his muscles felt like they were grating on the inside of his skin. 

"Where's Mercy? The others," Soldier bit the words out, trying to think of something, anything other than the texture of his own skull. 

Reaper was silent beside him, Soldier could just barely hear him breathing, fast and quiet. 

"Reaper, are they dead?" Soldier's gut went cold. Simple mission. If they died on this simple mission while he'd lain sleeping at the bottom of a hole...

"They're alive," Reaper growled. "Last time I saw them, which was awhile actually so a lot could have changed."

"What happened?" Soldier reached out to where he'd heard the click, and a bit of aimless patting around found the cannister, still ticking through it's cooldown. 

"I came looking for you," Reaper said bluntly. 

"No, what happened back up before we were separated in..." Soldier started, then stopped short. He realized suddenly that Reaper had actually been scared.

Soldier swallowed around the sudden heat in his throat. "I'm alright, Reaper." 

Reaper just snorted. It sounded so much like Gabe that Soldier couldn't stop a little flicker of a smile. 

"Yeah, you're great," Reaper patted his shoulder lightly. "Mercy knew you were dying so I left them to come look for you. She's with Zarya and Zenyatta and they're going to look for Mei. She's alive, got a radio from somewhere and is talking to Zarya on it." 

"The mission?" The pain was at a low enough ebb Soldier was able to start thinking again, his head beginning to clear. He was familiar with pain and his body's response to it. 

"Fucked," Reaper stated without much interest. "The hell happened to you?" 

Soldier opened his mouth, then felt a cool draft on his face and the backs of Reapers fingers brushed over his cheek. Instead of answering, Soldier followed a compulsion he never would have in the old days. He caught Reaper's hand in his and turned it over, and lent his cheek into Reaper's open palm. 

"Jack," Reaper whispered. 

"Ambushed," Soldier went on with the original question, the edge of his mouth against the heel of Reaper’s hand. The claws at the tips of the gauntlet’s fingers were resting, unexpectedly gentle, on his cheek. "The Crowjacks are here."

Reaper seemed to hesitate, and in the silence that followed, Soldier set the Biotic Field canister on the ground with a snap. It activated and the warmth spread out around him again. 

"They're a mercenary group," Reaper said slowly. "Who paid them to come?" 

"Hell if I know," Soldier shut his sightless eyes and sighed as the field's effects soaked through him. "They're treasure hunters though, so probably they're after what we're after." 

"No one actually cares about this damn book," Reaper growled. "Can you move Soldier?" 

"Ask me in three seconds," Soldier said. He was feeling whole again, almost entirely. The weight in his gut and the jagged edges through his gut were almost gone. The glass was being bullied out of the back of his neck. His shoulder and arm were sore but sound. 

"Thought you were dead when I found you," Reaper murmured after a beat. 

His voice was hardly audible over the fizz and hiss of the field, and Soldier turned towards it, his head cocked. "That bad huh?"

"You were flat out on your ass at the bottom of a sixty foot drop, lying over your busted arm with blood all over your face and neck. You've looked better." Reaper told him, his voice dry. "And impaled by a piece of vintage rebar circa. 1990's. Don’t forget that." 

"I wondered what that was, thanks for getting that out of me, with great force, and at high velocity," Soldier sighed as the canister clicked off. "Alright, let’s go." 

Reaper shifted, pulling his hand away and helping Soldier up. He felt shaky and a little weak, but that mostly came from the cold, and the stillness. And simple age. He turned his bare face through the darkness, seeking a draft or a change in temperature. 

Reapers bare hand settled unexpectedly on his cheek. 

Soldier started but stilled almost at once as Reaper pulled him around and in, then cool breath washed over his mouth. 

"Thought you were dead a long time," Reaper growled. "Now we're here I'm not going back to that." 

Soldier pushed forward, kissing Reaper’s open mouth with a quick, impulsive little press that felt so easy he could have been doing it his whole life. 

"You're not," Soldier replied. The certainty in his own voice surprised him, "We're not."

Reaper let out a slow, cool breath and the hand on Jack's cheek stroked over his jaw and down to the back of his neck. "Here, don't loose your shit next time," Reaper pulled one of Soldiers hands up and pushed something flat and light into it. "You think I liked finding that?" 

Soldier pulled back slightly and felt the thing in his hands. His mask and visor. He huffed a surprised little sigh and lifted it to his face, snapping it into the armor. 

The visor flashed and burned into the back of his eyes, slowly lighting up until Soldier blinked and found he could see. Reaper was standing in front of of him, white mask held in one hand and Gabe's face only barely visible in the dull omnipresent light that filtered down from an abandoned trouble-light sixty feet above them. He had been at the lower most fringe of the Underworld when he’d been chased down, and the ensuing fight in the little abandoned service hall had ended when one of the Crowjacks had thrown him unceremoniously down here. London was a city that had been built on, and over, more London. Long buried, covered over or abandoned, but Soldier was still mildly alarmed at how  _ much _ there was under the streets. They had to be almost two-hundred feet down now.

"Thanks," He looked around. His rifle made it down here with him, thank god, and here wasn't, as he'd dreaded, some horrible plague pit or sink for storm water. There was old cables running down the walls and a drain in the floor below him. Old service shaft perhaps? A shelter or air shaft from the first or second world war? Soldier's knowledge of London's history was bounded, predictably, by the degree of military activity at any given time. 

"How did you find me?" Soldier asked, looking up at the long dark fall he'd taken. There was a ledge above him, and a rusted out railing where a dark opening yawned about ten feet up. Some place for someone to inspect whatever had happened here. 

Reaper just shrugged, ducked his head back into his mask. 

Ducked his head like Gabe used to when he didn't want to tell the truth. Suddenly, Soldier saw him, twenty years younger; a boy in standard issue sweats ducking his head at roll call when hard questions were being asked about who had gone over the wall and into town the night before. He and Gabe had backed each other to the hilt that day. Both finding unexpected support in the other. 

"Reaper?" Soldier turned to face him again. Sixty feet straight down, levels below the unmapped maze of the Omnic shanty town, in the bewildering network of London's abandoned bowels. 

"You know I eat souls, Soldier," Reaper hissed, and suddenly the boy was gone. "Knew yours was around here somewhere." 

Soldier wondered with a jolt just how far his soul had gotten out of his body. "Useful," he deadpanned. He had wondered if Reaper's ability to heal in the simulation battles by eating the souls of the recently fallen was something Athena had put in, or if it was real. "They heal you out here too?"

"Yes," Reaper's mask was eerie in the darkness, the blackness of his outfit so easy to miss in the darkness of the pit. He seemed to be waiting for a response but Soldier just went past him, picked up his rifle and checked it for damage. 

"Good to know," Soldier remarked, and stooped to recover the Biotic Field cannister and snapped it back to his side. "We have to find a way up, see if we can make contact with Mercy. Coordinate a rendezvous." 

Reaper snorted, "Sir, yes sir," He growled, and the sarcasm was nearly palpable.

"I must be looking better if you're back to giving me shit," Soldier replied, utterly unruffled. It was nice hearing Gabe openly razing him, even if it was from behind Reaper's mask. He'd stopped when things had started going bad between them.

"Come on old man," Reaper stood quietly for a moment, then his edges dissolved and suddenly he was gone. 

Gunpowder and ozone again, blood left to dry in baking sunshine. Soldier turned and looked up to find Reaper had re-materialized on the edge of the yawning black opening above him. He stooped and reached down, and Soldier tensed, readied himself, and jumped up the wall, high enough that Reaper caught at his outstretched hand. Holding tight to each other's wrists, Reaper pulled and brought Soldier up, until Soldier could grab the ledge and pull himself up and in. 

"Not bad," Soldier nodded as he stood up beside Reaper in the narrow tunnel between the rusted out edges of the handrail. 

Reaper just shrugged, and looked down into the pitch black of the tunnel before them. The weak, tawny light from that long lost trouble light didn't reach past the ledge. He hissed in irritation, "Damn it's dark, I can't see a thing." 

"Blind you say. Well shit," Soldier deadpanned, cocking his head to watch Reaper, "We'd better turn around." 

Reaper didn't disappoint him. His hood tipped slowly back as the white mask looked up at the ceiling in silent, heartfelt irritation. Reaper sighed.

In the privacy of his mask, Soldier smirked.

* * *

 

 

They managed to make it appreciable distance up and out before they encountered their opposition, and found the Crowjacks.

It took a while, but Soldier’s visor could pick out close range in the dark, together, they wandered down tunnels and climbed rusty ladders and blasted open hatches to find somewhere that might lead out.  Soldier led them, while Reaper walked close behind in the darkness, one hand on Soldier's shoulder. They moved in step, picking their way over fallen bricks and loose spikes and ties, and moved just as quietly as they'd been trained to. 

Soldier spent the time in the dark thinking hard about how much they hadn't lost in the last several years. How much of what they did together was trained and how much was obsessively, compulsively wrapped up in each other. How much of their skills they had now were a result of learning them together. Trying to keep up with one another.

They finally emerged into a small tiled room with rotting shelves of old tins and tubs, and a mop sagging in a corner. Reaper shattered the door when he went to open it, and they shoved their way out into the crumbling archway of an old underground tube station. The rail lines had gone, but the ties were still visible, some of the spikes lying loose on the ground. 

"Old station platform," Soldier said quietly. 

"Finally," Reaper growled back, "Let's start climbing." 

Soldier nodded, climbed up on the platform with Reaper and began crossing towards the stairs. 

There were people here.

Soldier stopped cold. Reaper walked into his back, tensed and automatically fell perfectly silent. 

In the darkness past the range of Soldier’s vision, he could hear the low,  _ pap-pap-pap _ sounds of many soft-soled boots on dusty stone. People, a lot of them, moving together which meant they could see. That meant human, since Omnic's didn't wear boots. And probably armed, because anyone with this precision, and wearing anything that could see in this darkness wouldn't come unarmed. Steps descending towards them down the stairs. 

He couldn’t see them yet. Soldier's line of sight, such as it was, was a black and red haze, ending halfway the twin staircases.

"Opposition?" Reaper's voice was breath-soft in his ear. 

Soldier barely nodded. He hoped that Reaper wasn't really visible behind him. Hoped to god however many people were here in this dark station, they weren't expecting the kind of fight they were in for.

"Put the field down," Reaper said, even softer now. 

Soldier's heart skipped a beat. The Biotic Field lay down a lot of light, and noise, and it would make him a pathetically easy target. He wouldn't be more obvious if he broke into a sexy fan dance on a white piano in a brilliant spotlight.

He nodded once, tightened his grip in his rifle, and in one smooth, fast motion, grabbed the canister and slammed it down at the ground. Reaper vanished behind him, a cold draft on his back, and he was totally alone when the light and warmth and fizz of the field activation snapped out around him. 

Five seconds of light and noise and healing. Fifteen seconds while it recharged. Five seconds of standing alone in a spotlight looking up at a huge, abandoned tube station of red brick and crumbling mortar and faded blue and white tiles. There were old adverts sagging on the walls. A line of fallen or falling in benches along the platform. It looked like a wonderfully mundane little piece of forgotten urbania, with Soldier alone in the centre of a little glowing golden circle in full light. 

There were twenty people in combat armor above and on either side of him coming down the two stairways. Twenty people with rifles and dark-vision visors aiming at him, momentarily startled or assessing or recalibrating the settings on their visors to deal with the higher light levels. There was a shadow of a tawny yellow crow with spread wings on one chest plate that glinted in the low light from the field. Sign of the Crowjack mercenary group. Good. Soldier had been waiting for a rematch.

Soldier fired first, Helix Rockets aimed at the feet of those on the top of the left side stairs.  It was a good hit, knocking one Crowjack back and killing another, sending a third diving away from the blast. They went down the stairs where they knocked down two of their company on their way. 

Four seconds left. It was warm inside the field and Soldier took seven hits through the armored jacket while he lined up his next shot. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, just started at the top of the right hand stairs and began burst firing. The oily, familiar feeling of the Biotic Field rose, sharp and heavy as the hits he'd taken began closing, the damage already reversing and the bones and skin and muscle mending on their own. Stance, select target, aim, fire. Rifle pulled in tight to his shoulder. The heavy gun so familiar in his hands. The hard, arched room was unbelievably loud as rifles snapped and crashes down at him.

Three seconds left, sixteen hostiles still on their feet. Soldier aimed for the ones at the top of the stairs on either side, trying to force them down, make them cluster. He took more damage from bullets that the field could only heal at a set rate. Their attack was going to overwhelm him, he was their only target in a circle of light. Even if he was firing back with, he knew, unexpected accuracy and effectiveness. They were coming down the stairs, edging closer, recognizing, as he hoped they would, that he was much more effective at medium range then close. Hoping to god they'd cluster so only the few in the front could shoot him without risking blowing their friends heads off from behind. 

Two seconds, and Soldier staggered as a burst of unexpectedly well aimed shots hit his thigh and tore down to his knee. Still fourteen hostiles on their feet, still had five seconds before he could fire his rockets again. He backed a step, trying to widen his stance as his leg began healing more slowly, too many hits and not enough time to recover, the Biotic Field couldn’t prioritize what to heal, it just healed everything evenly until he was whole. He reloaded, hands moving in the unconscious patterns he'd mastered years ago. Took a bullet to the centre of his chest and gasped as blood soaked down his jacket. He pulled his rifle back into his shoulder and fired again. He didn't need to burst fire anymore, they were close enough that accuracy wasn't an issue. 

One more second. They were clustered up, advancing in an arrowhead, irritatingly well aware that Soldier was trying to pinch them in to limit their firing. Soldier focused on trying to keep breathing and aimed low, at knees and feet, making those in the front stumble or look down, miss shots and trip up those behind them. His heart was beating panicked fast, breath shallow and painful. He wasn't going to die alone here. Reaper was here, Gabe was here. They were close enough he could see the individual feathers of the crow's wings insignia on their chest plates. Needed to reload again. Soldier lunged forward instead, slamming his rifle into the face of the nearest hostile, took an alarming amount of damage from a sudden burst of fire, and lent forward, head already lowered. 

The field snapped off. In the abrupt darkness that followed, Soldier's knee hit the ground, his head bowed, eleven hostiles in a tight, arrowhead so close he was expecting a kick at any second. 

And Reaper dropped in among them. Soldier grinned behind his mask, eyes shut in relief as Reaper exploded out from their midst, _ DIE DIE DIE _ while his shotguns crashed out, impossibly fast and loud, harmless above his head. Cold air washed over him in a swirling, buffeting wave and Reaper spun before him, dropping seven, eight, nine people. 

But Reaper couldn't see anything anymore. He couldn't see the last two Crowjack's falling back, hideously injured and terrified but moving, their rifles coming up, ignoring the white haired old man on his knees and focusing on the huge, dark shape swirling to a stop in a gust of icy air.  Soldier could though. His hands reloaded almost before he realized what he was doing, and his head came up, two people just on the edge of his visor's ability to pick them up. Two people aiming at his Gabe and they were going to die for that. Burst fire, high center mass, rifle down, turn past Reaper, rifle up, aim, burstfire again. Two bodies dropped, and silence fell. 

After the horrific, ringing, echoing clatter of twenty rifles, a heavy pulse blaster and however the hell many shotguns Reaper could wield speaking at once, the silence was almost more alarming than the noise had been. 

Soldier let out a breath, and suddenly the pain of every single bullet he'd taken that should have killed him slammed into him at once. He was expecting it, but it was still startling, and still forced the breath out of him as he fought to stay conscious. 

"Jack?" Reaper was standing above him, looking perfectly healthy, shotguns in his hands. 

"I'll manage Gabe," Soldier ground out, "You?" 

"There's about fourteen souls lying around. I'm full." 

"Don't gorge yourself now," Soldier said, the quip coming automatically, "Watch that waspy waistline of yours." He shook his head and a bullet, lodged somewhere over his scalp fell out of skin and bone and plinked against a stone as it dropped. A gout of blood splashed after it. He groaned. 

Reaper just snorted. "They're not churros Jack." 

"Preference?" Soldier asked, talking at random and counting the seconds until the field was recharged. 

"Churros," Reaper replied, without much interest. 

"I knew you'd never give up sweets, whatever your image," Soldier realized he was holding his breath. He pushed the air out of his lungs and forced himself to reload again. He didn't really need to but the actions kept him mobile. His body could survive this, it had been very carefully redesigned to. He could only feel a chunk of the pain he was in, but it was still overwhelmingly huge without the adrenaline of active, life threatening combat to get him through.

"All churros are good, souls are hit or miss," Reaper replied. 

Soldier realized that Reaper was playing the exact same game he was. Talking at random, trying to keep Soldier's mind off the pain. The thought,  _ he’s taking care of me, _ hit Soldier a little oddly and his breath caught. 

"Hierarchy of souls huh? Sure some philosophical minded theologian would love to hear your thoughts on the mater," Soldier hefted the biotic field cannister in one hand.

"I can't imagine how the taste of souls would have an impact on anything." Reaper replied. “Especially since I’m the only judge.” 

The cannister recharge ended while Soldier was already moving to slam it into the ground. It activated and the light spread out around him. He took a breath as he climbed back up to his feet, taking a look at the bodies around him. 

"Crowjacks," Soldier said quietly. Then broke off as Reaper dropped his shotguns and suddenly crowded in close, both clawed gauntlets reaching for his neck. 

Soldier recognized later that if anyone else had moved that fast towards him, reached for his neck in the dark like that, he'd probably have shot them. Instead, he felt himself relax, tension dropping instinctually out of him before he could draw breath. Reaper's hands wrapped around the back of his neck, points of his claws just barely pushing into the armor there, and gently pulled him forwards. 

The pale mask felt cold as Reaper butted their foreheads together.

"Nice set up," Reaper growled, so close and so low and quiet that Soldier could feel the vibrations of his words inside his chest.

"Nice save," Soldier replied. He leaned against Reaper, eyes shut inside his visor. He sighed as the insides of his bones, the shredded pieces of his flesh, the bruises and tears and holes were made whole again. He didn't really notice the odd, oily feeling sliding over and in and through him. He was thinking that Reaper’s gauntlets were surprisingly gentle on his neck. Steady, with perfect poise, like Soldier was a sacred object. He was remembering every other time they'd stood like this, worked together like this. 

"Crowjacks," Reaper said a moment later, pulling his hands down and seeming to subside slightly, like some tension in him had eased.

"You ever worked for them?" Soldier asked. The bionic field beside him snapped off and Soldier thought idly about how long it had felt when he was being gunned down by twenty people with rifles. The same length of time felt brief while Reaper held their heads together like they were still young and wild and happy. 

He stooped and picked the cannister up, snapped it to his belt and took one last look around at the bodies lying around. 

"No, they pay well, train well," Reaper stood still in the dark until Soldier settled Reaper's hand on his shoulder again. "If they're here, there's something valuable." 

"Zenyatta's damn book," Soldier muttered, "Simple damn mission my ass. I’m going to have strong words with Winston when we get back. Stairs," he added, stepping up onto the station's left staircase and pulling Reaper up after him.

They picked their way over the bodies in the dark, Soldier looking around carefully as they went. He was counting the well trained, brave, well equipped, bodies as they picked their way over them. He sighed. A goddamn waste was what it was. And they got younger every year, the fuckers. 

At the head of the stairs, Soldier looked around at a surprisingly huge hall. It was wide and lofty, with pillars every fifteen feet spreading out on all sides. The long locked up hollows of shut down stores and kiosks had been pried open less long ago, and there were trash and papers scattered over the ground. A path kicked free of trash led away into the darkness, apparently where the team of Crowjacks had come from. At least they had their way out.

Twenty was a strange number to send down, Soldier reflected as he stepped over the trash and loose tiles between the pillars. This was a long way down. He'd have sent more. 

He stopped cold suddenly, and Reaper walked into his back again. Soldier tensed and was already turning, reaching for Reaper, needing to cover him somehow, shield him. 

There had been twenty attackers on the stairs, but he'd only counted nineteen bodies. 

The rifle shots, too many to count, came from three different sides. Reaper flinched and snarled in his arms, and Soldier took a bullet high on his shoulder, and without thinking threw down the Biotic Field, turned, and yanked his rifle up. 

The pool of golden light flashed out and filled the little tiled atrium with light. Eleven Crowjacks, spread out at different distances around them, walking feather-soft over the trash, lining up their shots. The light startled them and Soldier reached up without thinking about it, activated his visor and fired. He didn't have time to waste with burst firing. He had to make these shots count. They were too spread out for burst damage and too far away for Reaper's shotguns to kill them fast enough. Reaper couldn't leave the field to flank while they could see him perfectly well and were watching him. 

"Target rich environment," Soldier growled with satisfaction, firing rapidly, one-two-three, one-two-three, as the lock in his visor snapped from one hostile to the next. He fired his rockets at the only two who were reasonably close and gunned down the survivor of the duo as they dove for cover. 

But the Crowjacks had an advantage in the dark, and they knew now that the Biotic Field only gave five seconds of light. If they'd been watching, they also knew there was a fifteen second cool down before he could use it again. And they knew, if they’d been watching, that even if Soldier could see, Reaper couldn't. 

After six targets went down Soldier found that the rest had scattered and dodged into cover. There was no one left to shoot at without moving.

They were waiting him out.

"Shit," Soldier snarled. 

The tactical visor petered out and there were two seconds left on the field. There were five well armed, well armored, well trained and incredibly angry mercenaries in cover behind pillars anywhere from twenty to fifty feet away in a pitch dark hall the size of a gymnasium. They were scared of Reaper now. They wouldn't cluster up or get close again. 

"Wraith out and run," Soldier growled, reloading. 

Reaper was back to back with him, shotguns drawn and silent. 

"Reaper," Soldier snapped. 

"I never followed your orders before, I'm not starting now." 

The field snapped off, flat darkness fell, and the underground hall exploded with sound. 

Five remaining Crowjacks broke cover simultaneously, dropped into position and fired. At his back, Reaper gasped in pain and snarled a long, low searing diatribe in two languages. Soldier gasped as two fresh wounds tore through his armor. He burst fired twice and two bodies dropped. 

"Wraith out," Soldier could feel Reaper's shoulders against his, shuddering as he took shots from hostiles too far away to shoot back at. Reaper couldn't defend himself, he couldn't fight back. Soldier had led him into an ambush he should have seen coming and they had about fourteen goddamn seconds before he could heal them. They were surrounded and only Soldier should die because of it. 

"Gabe, please." 

Reaper just hissed at him. "My two o’clock, I think." 

Soldier turned, and Reaper turned with him, staying at his back as they kept position around each other as effectively as dancers. 

Another burst of fire and a third body dropped as Soldier found them in the gloom at the very edge of his visor's vision. 

Reaper gasped and staggered, dropping to one knee as two rifles spoke at once from the dark. The lit display on Soldier's rifle lit up the icon for Helix Rockets as he was already turning, without Reaper at his back anymore, towards the direction the shots had to have come from. He fired, and in the brief flash of light as the rockets ignited, he saw both shooters. Saw one about to catch the Helix Rockets in centre mass. Saw Reaper lying still on the ground beside him. 

_ Thought you were dead a long time. Now we're here I'm not going back to that.  _

Someone shrieked in the darkness and then there was a flash of an explosion that would momentarily blind anyone with dark-vision visors. 

Reload. His hands already moving before the rockets had struck. Soldier knew exactly what he had to do. Briefly, he commit his soul to god in one brief prayer, dropped across Reaper's body, and died. 

"Heavy son of a bitch," Reaper's voice in his ear, so soft Soldier almost didn't hear it.

"Shut up and play dead," Soldier muttered, and grit his teeth as he felt the thump of a bullet slam through his armor into his still body. At least it wasn't going into Reaper.

"I'm not gonna be playing much longer," Reaper whispered, and this time, Soldier could hear the blood in Reaper's mouth with every word. 

A step in the darkness, just one, but the gentle  _ pap  _ of soft-soled boots on broken tile was enough noise for hope. 

Play dead. Soldier couldn't feel Reaper breathing under him. 

Another few steps, and another bullet in the tough armor of his back, slamming through and into him. He forced his body to take it, relax, dead things don't flinch he reminded himself with his teeth tight together. Then the last shooter was walking towards him, thirty feet away, twenty, steps loosing their silence, as the shooter lost his reserve. No need, Soldier agreed with them, to feel cautious around a couple of old dead guys. 

Another few steps and Soldier was ready when it came, two bullets into the back, between his shoulders. They punched through the armor and he took them without a flinch. He ruthlessly shoved the pain away, for now. Pain was a luxury you could enjoy when you weren't in a firefight. At least if he did die, he reasoned, Reaper might make it out, one soul was as good as another at a time like this. 

A boot nudged him, not so soft-soled after all, and then a kick to his ribs, surprisingly vicious. Close range and no longer hidden.

Soldier exploded upwards.

"Got you," he snarled, grabbing the Crowjack's rifle by the stock and yanking it viciously as he surged up. He was back on his feet, with four bullets in his back and six in his chest and _this_ was what the soldier enhancement program had been for. The moment when he was still strong enough, fast enough, to catch a mercenary killer half his age, tear the rifle out of their hands and throw them to the ground. 

"Don't shoot! Don't- I surrender, I surrender--" The Crowjack panicked, alone in this huge room full of their dead. The detailing of the leather pads on the palms of their gloves flashed up, white in the darkness, as they opened their hands to him. Empty handed and unarmed. 

Soldier didn't hesitate, his rifle was already swinging down to bear, and he fired point blank into the last living Crowjack's chest. 

Beside him, Reaper started and gasped in a breath. He coughed, shook himself and began shoving himself up onto his knees.

"There's probably more," Soldier dropped back. Sitting down hard beside Reaper and taking hold of the Biotic Field. "Or this comes off cool down in about five seconds. Not damn soon enough." 

He realized, too late, that he was falling backwards and barked with pain as the momentary blackout fetched him up lying on fresh wounds. Groaning, he slammed the cannister to the ground between him and Reaper, waiting for it to come off cool down. 

"The hell were you thinking, Reaper," Soldier said. Above him, the ceiling came together in a curving, four sided arc with a pillar at each corner. He could just see up to the highest point. "Body blocking like that. I told you to wraith out, at least then you'd be invulnerable for three seconds." 

Reaper was perfectly quiet beside him, Soldier could hear him breathing in the darkness. 

"I've told you this before, I'm not giving orders for my own amusement it's for the benefit of--" 

"You shot someone, at point blank range, as they were surrendering," Reaper said flatly. 

"You were bleeding out on the damn floor, Reaper," Soldier replied curtly, "Because you thought taking about five bullets a round was preferable to the invulnerability-" 

The Biotic Field activated between them, golden light and warmth around them in a ring, and they both huffed out quick, simultaneous sighs of relief. The argument momentarily suspended. Around them, nothing moved or breathed. They were surrounded by the dead again.

"You shot someone in cold blood," Reaper said, more quietly. 

"You were dying," Soldier replied. What about that was so hard to understand. It wasn't like Reaper hadn’t been around for that. He'd been perfectly aware he was dying. He'd been complaining about it.

"You would have taken them prisoner." Reaper clarified, "Before." 

Soldier's breath caught. Abruptly, his warm, dozy feeling inside the field snapped out as he thought about this situation again. If Reyes had taken that damage and young, stupid, idealistic, naive Jack Morrison had been the one to catch the last of the hostiles. If they had surrendered and Jack had been facing down an unarmed person with their hands up. Someone whose death could have saved Reyes. What would he have done as a younger man? 

“Maybe," Soldier said quietly. "I was an idiot when I was young though, we've talked about this. This time, right now, I didn't hesitate, I didn't even flinch. Wouldn't risk loosing you." 

Reaper's mask tipped down to face him. He was sitting back on his haunches, hands loose on his thighs, long coat crumpled under and around him. Coats like that were totally impractical. Soldier knew that from experience. 

"I'd do it again," Soldier said. He didn’t turn his head to look back up at Reaper. He still looked like he was studying the ceiling, but he was watching the lines and curves and angles of Gabriel Reyes' body inside Reaper's clothes. Watching Gabe's gestures and impulses moving that ghoulish mask. He was here, he was alive. He was savage and violent and murderous and Jack was here too, and he wasn't so different. 

Reaper was quiet for another beat, and between them, the Biotic Field clicked off. Back in darkness, and in the quiet that came from dead things, Reaper huffed out a sigh and talked through a smirk, "You're so romantic." 

The growl was low enough that Soldier could feel the words vibrate in his chest. And something about it, the suppressed smirk in his voice or the timing or the location or the left over panic and dread from the last few minutes was all too much for him. Soldier burst out laughing. For what felt like the first time in years.

"If we'd dated in the old days you probably would have gotten me flowers," Reaper added, talking over him. He was grinning now as he spoke. 

"Bullets are cheaper," Soldier was still in pain, still healing, and feeling slightly wild with Reaper interpreting the murder of a unarmed gunner as a valentine. 

Which he supposed, wrestling himself back under control and trying not to snort with any more laughter, it could well have been. It was certainly a promise. If they were doing this together they'd run more risks, they'd be in more fights.

Reaper helped him sit up, and Soldier grunted and shifted until he sat at Reaper's back, leaning against him. Back to back, and staring out at the pitch blackness of the forgotten London underground surrounded by the dead, Soldier sighed and shut peacefully shut his eyes. 

"Reaper," Soldier said, more quietly now that he needed to make a point, and he wasn't exactly sure how to say it. "I'd do that every single time. I will lure a shooter over and kill them with my bare hands if their soul heals you for one iota of damage and you keep breathing. You are my mission critical. You should have always been." 

Reaper's shoulders shifted against his, as Reaper dragged a slow, ratting sigh in and let it out slowly. He didn't reply, but tipped his head back a little, and leant his temple against Soldier's.

They sat like that until the cannister came off cooldown, and Reaper idly activated it again by bapping it on it’s head. They healed through the last of the damage they'd taken in five warm, fizzy seconds, leaning against each other. 

It clicked off and Soldier sighed and shifted, waiting until Reaper lent forwards before he climbed to his feet, picking the cannister and his rifle up after him and moving slowly around the horrible, oily feeling of brand new muscle-mass strung too tight after healing. They'd ache for days, and the hypersensitivity in his skin would make him keenly aware of every injury for hours after this. 

"I can see where they came from," Soldier could still make out the path through the trash that the mercenaries had kicked free. "Or we can look at where they were heading when they diverted to pick on us." 

"Let's see where they were going. Don't want to meet more coming down," Reaper replied. 

"Good point," Soldier took Reaper's hand and brought it to his shoulder again. 

"I'm with you," Reaper growled, and the claws of his gauntlets pressed into the armor over Soldier's shoulder. 

Soldier hefted his rifle into both hands and he turned them towards the darkness in the direction they mercenaries were heading. 

"Hold," Soldier muttered, and stopped at the first body they came to. He quickly yanked off the dark-vision visor and checked it over for a radio or comm. Nothing. Which wasn't terribly surprising, he reasoned, as he stood back up. Two hundred odd feet of dirt is a lot to communicate through.

"Come on Soldier," Reaper growled behind him, "Move." 

"Body," Soldier said, idly stepping over one. "Two low stairs, body," Over another. Reaper followed him, taking his cues from Soldier and following him through the pillars of the hall. 

The line of shops, and a wall of faded adverts and graffiti narrowed down to a hallway, caged off and torn open much more recently than the rest of the hall. Soldier paused to look at the edges of the wire, and the bent rods of steel that had been the door, shrugged and climbed carefully through.

"Hole in a cage door," He said for Reaper's benefit. "You want this dark-vision visor?" 

"Did you loot that? From a dead person?" Reaper asked, smirking again. "It's like I don't even know you." 

Soldier suppressed a grin of his own. "Suit yourself then." 

"Later," Reaper amended, trailing right behind Soldier. "Where are we?" 

"Fire escape stairway?" Soldier hazarded, cocking his head to look up at a steel stairway, rising until he couldn't see. "Ten steps up to a landing, ninety degree turn to the left, ten steps up, repeat." 

"Anyone been here?"

They started climbing, and Soldier noted that the dust and crud on the stairs hadn't been shifted until he stepped in it. They were leaving two sets of footsteps behind them. "Not for a long time. Can't hear anything." 

"Good." 

They reached the first landing and Reaper's grip suddenly snapped painfully tight into Soldier's shoulder. 

"That's good," Reaper snarled, and suddenly shoved Soldier forward, quick and ruthless, driving him hard into the wall. 

"Reaper," Soldier barked out in surprise. He dropped his rifle and slapped the wall with both hands and pushed back. Reaper's other hand went to his hip, another painful grip that yanked his ass back as Reaper thrust into him. 

"Fucking killed in cold blood for me," Reaper snarled, low and fast and breathless. The grip on Soldier's shoulder tightened, pushing his chest to the wall as Reaper ground his hips into Soldier's ass. 

"Course," The tips of Soldier's gloves scraped at the wall, seeking purchase. He widened his stance and tipped his hips back, breathing out hard as Reaper's hand tightened on his hip again. The points of the claws on his gauntlets were digging into his armor, just over the dip between his thigh and pelvis.

"Where's that golden-boy reputation now Soldier?" Reaped chuckled, grinning as he spoke and stroking a hand down Soldier's back, pressing his back into an arch and thrusting up into it. 

"Probably not up my ass but you're welcome to look Reaper," Soldier couldn't keep the challenge out of his voice at that, and grinned when he felt Reaper's hands tighten on his body. 

Reaper's hand left his back, and Soldier chuckled trying to keep his breathing normal. 

"You knew exactly," Soldier said, talking low and fast, fighting to get the words out, "Exactly what to do, when to come down and kill everyone. Knew you would." 

"You knew when to get out of the way. Good at going down on your fucking knees," Reaper replied, "That's promising."

Soldier heard a clatter as one of Reaper's belts hit the floor, then another. Then Reaper's hand on his hip relaxed slightly and reached down, until he was cupping the hard length of Soldiers dick through his pants and pressing in to pull Soldier back. 

Soldier let out a breath that was almost a whine and his years of bitching about the hypersensitivity the Biotic Field left him with were fucking over. 

"Can't believe you body blocked for me," Soldier shuddered as Reaper pulled back slightly, and then hissed out a sigh and pushed back in, and the hard line of his bare dick settled up Soldier's ass, rocking against him. The gauntlet cupped over his dick tightened, almost painfully, claws pressing in as he pulled Soldier back in time for each hard thrust. "Damn idiot." 

"Not like I was going to watch you die, Jack.” 

Reaper's voice wasn't muffled by his mask now, and hearing his name, his old name made Soldier breath in hard through his teeth. 

One handed, Soldier pulled his mask off and gasped as the darkness crashed in on him again. "Gabe," he said, and didn't know how to finish that. 

Gabe did though, and pulled him up, turned him hard and fast and shoved him back against the wall and crowded in after him, chest to chest, his cool breath on Jack's face. They kissed hard in the dark, both blind now, and Soldier's hands were inside Gabe's coat at his sides and dragging him in, reaching down for his hips until he could drag Gabe forward and thrust against him. His dick, still in leather grinding up against Reaper’s bare length. 

"Gabe," Jack kept his hands tight on Reaper’s hips, feeling Reaper moving against him. Still powerful in a way Soldier envied. 

Gabe's hands were at Jack's pants, one in it's clawed gauntlet, the other bare. "Open your mouth," Gabe growled. 

Jack opened his mouth and Gabe pushed a kiss into him that made him groan, letting Gabe push him back against the wall and sucked his tongue. Then Jack started as the claws on Gabe's gauntlet were suddenly against the bare skin of his abdomen, dragging down. Jack snarled, pushing back up into Reaper and getting one hand on the back of his neck to hold him in.

It was more like fighting then anything else, because that was what they were good at. Violence was the best they had in themselves, and so that's what they wanted to give, the only thing they could. They were going to carry marks from this, they were going to have bruised lips and flushed cheeks and it wouldn't matter because no one ever saw their faces, their skin.

Jack broke the kiss when Gabe shoved his pants down his thighs, both hands running over his ass and squeezing, pulling his ass open, one claw from the hand still in it's gauntlet tracing a cold line over Jack's opening. 

"Come on Gabe," Jack growled, tightening the hand on the back of Gabe's neck in a grip too tight to be anything but possessive, "Move it." 

Gabe pulled his bare hands back and spat into it, "This is going to hurt." 

"I've been shot about seventeen damn times in the last twenty minutes," Jack growled in reply, "No it isn't." 

Jack still gasped as Gabe hooked his arms under Jack's legs and hoisted him up over his hips. It was still a point of some envy that despite everything they'd been through, Jack was perfectly aware that Gabe was still strong in a bone deep, visceral way that Jack would always lack. His dick was still oddly cool, slick with spit as Jack reached back, pulling himself open as Gabe lined himself up and pushed up and  _ in _ . 

"Fuck," Gabe breathed, dropping his forehead to Jack’s shoulder, " _ Fuck _ Jackie." 

Jack couldn't speak, could hardly breath, his dick was lying up the front of his jacket and Gabe was huge and heavy and weirdly cool inside him and holy fuck if he’d thought the feeling of his own bones menting was over stimulating he wasn't fucking ready for Gabe's dick inside him. 

"Always like some fucking ray of sunshine," Gabe breathed, and slowly, carefully, he let Jack sink a little further onto him. Jack would have whined if he had breath for it. "You're so  _ warm  _ Jack." 

"Good," Jack said stupidly. He was thinking of wintertime, of Gabe's cold skin buzzing with an energy that didn't come from a heartbeat. Of all the moments when Soldier saw his breath fog in cold air but Reaper's never did. "Fucking come here, get warm." 

Gabe let out a little surprised laugh, shaking his head on Jack's shoulder. He pressed Jack back, against the wall, crowding him in until Jack felt all that coiled strength shudder at the edge of his endurance. Gabe using all his strength to keep still, hold Jack here against the wall, impaled on him, waiting.

"I didn't fucking kill those idiots out there to wait around in here Gabe, _move_ ," Jack snarled, tightening his legs around Gabe's hips and holding onto his shoulders. "Come on." 

Gabe grinned, hard and lupine, his cheek against Jacks, and the next second, Jack snarled out a curse as Gabe fucking moved. His hands clawed at Gabe's shoulders, seeking purchase while Gabe fucked him hard and fast up against the wall. Held Jack up and held him in place as he bit out words in every language he knew against Jack's ear. Gabe growling out tiny promises and oaths and secrets and Jack snarled his replies into Gabe's neck and got his gloved hand in Gabe's hair and held on. 

It was too much, Gabe had always been too much, so intense and vivid and powerful that at the time, mild, friendly Jack Morrison had been the obvious one to promote to the highly media heavy position he'd been put in. Jack was a smiling boy with power no one noticed who could be taught to say anything. Gabe was a snarling beast with drive and loyalty and passion under his skin that made him dangerous.Those who’d made that call, so long ago, had known Jack could be taught, brought round to a way of thinking, trained. Gabe couldn't be swayed, couldn't be diverted from what he knew was right. 

And all that meant now, and here, years after that promotion had stopped mattering, was that Gabe Reyes wasn't fucking Jack for any other reason than because he knew they both wanted it this way.  Hard and rough and covered in blood with a small platoon of dead mercenaries cooling where they'd put them down minutes ago. 

Jack's snarling, open mouth panting, "Harder Gabe I can take it, come on, you can do better." 

"Good," Gabe hissed, hitched Jack up as though he wasn't two hundred solid pounds, shifted his hips and the next thrust dragged a scream out of Jack. "Take that ok Jackie?" 

"Fuck you," Jack replied, trembling slightly, dazed and seriously reconsidering how useful the Biotic Field and its side effects could be, "Yes, like that." 

"Touch yourself Jack, work for it then," Gabe panted, turning his face until he spoke against Jack's open mouth. 

Jack kissed him, biting Gabe's lip and managing to pull one gloved hand from Gabe's shoulder, letting his weight shift onto the wall behind him, down slightly onto Gabe. He could barely touch his dick, weeping and jerking at every thrust, already overworked with Gabe inside him. He got one hand around himself and moaned into the kiss, his body shuddering and tightening. Gabe started slightly and Jack just laughed against his mouth. 

"Keep laughing," Gabe kissed him, brief and hard, "Like how that sounds." 

Jack came off in his own hand, spattering their chests and his glove and biting his lip to stay quiet, shuddering through an orgasm that forced him back and up and dragged his body wire tight for seconds on end until he was almost scared.

"Fuck Jackie," Gabe whispered. 

Their foreheads were together again, Jack pushing into him because Gabe was stronger, more reliable than a wall and if Jack was going to use an anchor, it was going to be Gabe. 

"Gabe," Jack gasped, and it came out like a prayer, or a plea, but he meant it as a promise. 

Gabe's hands tightening purposefully on Jack, turning and bringing them both down to push Jack flat down on the landing, one hand on his chest pushing him down. He fucked into Jack then, fast and ruthless and Jack broke and cried out, holding on as Gabe came inside him without a sound. 

Gabe stayed quiet still, shuddering and curled over, his head low over Jack's chest. 

"Gabe," Jack pushed one hand over Gabe's head, through his curly hair. He was panting in cold ozone and gunpowder, the air around them was cool and he was still sweating and holding onto Gabe so tight he was trembling with the effort. 

"We'll get this right," Gabe whispered over Jack's chest.

"So far so good," Jack said, with perfect conviction, "Start as we mean to go on." 

Gabe chuffed another breathless little laugh. "In the pitch dark after a killing spree on a mission gone disastrously wrong and a hundred feet underground." 

“I’d say two hundred,” Jack shrugged with an effort, "How else?" 

Gabe panted out a little laugh. He seemed to gather himself, then eased out of Jack, pulling away with a little pained noise that came straight out of both of them.

“I didn't really believe you," Jack admitted quietly. He didn't let go, just tugged until Gabe was on his hands and knees over him.

"You're not so easy to trust either," Gabe replied, and ducked his head to kiss Jack. He seemed to be able to find him in the dark by heat alone. 

"I lied far more then you, Blackwatch," Jack agreed. He had realized that over time, over years spent with the past creeping up on him, reminding him of all the faults he didn't see when he should have.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to admit that, and here we are it doesn’t fucking matter.” Gabe huffed and reluctantly pulled back and sat up. “I know you’re not lying now.”

“Good,” Jack reached for his pants and hoped to god that blood would be the more obvious of all they were spattered in. 

They both eased back into their clothes, and sat propped against one another in the golden circle of the biotic field for five seconds, shuddering as the field spread, warm and oily over every overstimulated inch of them. 

"Suppose Zenyatta's book is up there?" Jack asked, seconds had passed since the field had switched off, and he was still leaning against Gabe, waiting for him to move first. 

"Don't care," Gabe replied, his voice soft. He was a heavy, familiar, reassuring weight along Jack's back and didn't seem inclined to move. He tipped his head until it rested on Jack's shoulder, and turned until his forehead was against Jack's cheek. "I say we hold position. For a little while." 

"Nice," Jack said, turning his head and butting their foreheads together. He shut his sightless eyes and smiled. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I love these two and all their angst and drama and kisses. This chapter ties into an upcoming Genyatta fic, and and upcoming Zarymei fic, both of which I'll be publishing in the New Year. So in case you're wondering if there's more here I assure you there is, but please bare with me for now.  
> Massive shout-out to Windlion who helped me come up with some of the dialogue here, and patiently waited me out while I ranted about the shitty courtship rituals of the wild, reclusive edge lords. Thanks friend. <3  
> I update on Mondays, last week was Roadrat PWP and next Monday, Dec 12, will be the last chapter of a Bagginshield pining fic. In case either of those is something you want to check out <3  
> If you have any requests, or questions, or just want to say hi, please do! Hmu and let me know what you'd like to see, either here in the comments or at my tumblr leoandlancer.tumblr.com/ask I'd love to chat!  
> This work was unbeta'd so any horribly embarrassing grammar or spelling mistakes are my own fault, and I apologize.


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